


Well-Kept Memories

by Nicxan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Memories, Punk Rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: Papa I decides to show Papa III some photos from his teenage years.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Well-Kept Memories

**Author's Note:**

> [Banned Together Bingo](https://bannedtogetherbingo2020.tumblr.com/)!  
> This prompt was 'Punk Rock'.
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this one.

Terzo had fully intended to get Primo to join them in cards. Really, he did. It wasn’t often that Papa II wanted to organize these things; time with his brothers was the most precious thing in the world.    
  
But it wasn’t every day that Primo busted open an old photo album, either. Actually, it was the first time that Primo ever had. So, it was understandable that Terzo stuck around to listen about the pictures from the times. Right?    
  
Right.    
  
Terzo sat on the edge of the bed, right next to Primo. He glanced outside -- still not quite sundown, so they still had a bit of time before Secondo wondered where they were. He’d take advantage of every second.    
  
“So, here is when I was a teenager.” Primo’s voice was as relaxing as ever and Terzo found himself hanging on every word. He leaned over his older brother’s shoulder.    
  
Each polaroid picture was faded and old, most of the colors lost to the times. The  _ actual  _ photographs were well-preserved and vibrant, each one of them in immaculate condition. Some shots were of a much younger Primo and a much younger Nihil, each at awkward angles and some heads cut off. Only one shot seemed to work out of all of them -- and even then, it was just barely. Primo’s head was in the shot, sure, but Nihil’s wasn’t.   
  
Yet, one thing stuck out to Terzo more than anything else.    
  
“You had hair!” He couldn’t help but laugh and point at one of the photographs. To see Primo with such luscious black hair almost seemed impossible, but there it was. “Quite dashing, weren’t you?”   
  
“For a teenager, I suppose I was.” Primo chuckled and carefully turned one of the thick scrapbook pages.    
  
It was difficult to take in every single picture of his older brother; there were some failed selfies at bad angles, shots obviously taken by Nihil, and some shots of the ministry at the time. Most of the pictures were Primo in casual clothes: jeans, a ripped-up band shirt, and ... wait. A leather jacket?   
  
“ _Fratello_! I had no idea you were a punk back then.” Terzo elbowed him playfully, snickering all the while. “What a rebellious boy you were! How did father ever survive?”   
  
“Oh, not only did he survive, he approved, as well.” Primo pointed to one of the pictures on the second page. “Look. Do you see this leather jacket?”    
  
Terzo did. He did before, but he was looking at it much more closely now. On just a passing glance, it looked normal. But taking another look, it fit oddly. It seemed just a bit too big for Primo’s lanky frame and just a bit too long. A lot of the patches looked older and worn, something that wouldn’t exactly work for a teenager. Well, unless Primo was a punk baby.    
  
Terzo shot him a suspicious glance. Then, he looked back at the picture.    
  
“That was Grand Papa Nihil’s,” Primo explained. Well, that made much more sense, but it was also much more boring. “He gave it to me to wear at my first punk concert.”   
  
Terzo shouldn’t have been surprised -- their father was a frontman, after all. But even so, his eyes widened and he scooched a bit closer to get an even better look. Primo obliged by tilting the scrapbook towards him.    
  
“From  _ father! _ Really!?” Terzo paused, then looked up at Primo with a massive grin on his face. “May I ask what show?”   
  
“The Ramones.”   
  
“Ah, classic!” Terzo clapped once in approval, wringing his hands together in sheer delight. He almost begged Primo to not turn the page quite yet -- he wanted a better look at those patches! -- but didn’t object when he did. “And how was the show?”   
  
“Oh, wonderful, of course. I managed to get to the front row. While I wasn’t quite able to meet them, it was a show I would never forget.”   
  
“Lucky you!”   
  
“I had a lot of people at the show asking me how I saw the Sonics and the Kinks,” Primo said with a laugh. “I was very embarrassed to tell them it was my father’s jacket. They, however, found it rather charming.”   
  
“I would too! I simply can’t imagine a better introduction to punk than being inducted by prior generations.” Terzo sighed wistfully, leaning against Primo. His shoulders almost slumped.    
  
He wished Nihil had done something like that for him. Really, it seemed like he had checked out as soon as Terzo was born -- something Terzo always assumed was his fault. It had taken his brothers to convince him that, no, it was their father’s problem. Not his.    
  
Still, though ...    
  
“It was the one good thing he did for me,” Primo said softly. Was that a twinge of sadness in his voice? Terzo frowned and promptly sat up. “I believe that was the last time he showed any interest in my life. He got rather ... distant, after that.”   
  
Terzo wasn’t sure what to say. Primo silently flipped another page. His smile was small and weak when he saw what was there.    
  
A patch? It looked like an older one, but it was well-kept. The Ramones’ logo was on it and the design itself seemed older. Vintage.    
  
“Was this from the show?” Terzo poked at it, and was shocked when it shifted just a bit on the page.   
  
Primo nodded. “I had saved up some money. I wanted to get Grand Papa Nihil a patch, but ... after the way he treated me, I decided that he did not deserve it.” He shook his head sadly and let out a little defeated sigh.    
  
“His loss, _fratello_!” Terzo clapped Primo’s shoulder and squeezed gingerly. If the grip was just a bit too tight, Primo didn’t say anything. If Terzo’s tone was just a bit too chipper, it went ignored. “It was a wonderful thought.”    
  
“I thought so, as well. But apparently he was not interested.”    
  
The two remained silent for a while. Primo seemed to slouch and his grip on the photo album loosened. Terzo kept his hand on his brother’s shoulder, just staring at the polaroid pictures with a certain sadness.    
  
Then, Primo grabbed the patch and pulled it off of the page. He wordlessly handed it to Terzo.    
  
Terzo hesitated before taking it in his hand. The texture of it was so old, so worn -- and yet, immaculate. He examined it carefully, turning it in his head. Ah, a sew-on. Easy enough to work with.    
  
Wait, but --    
  
“Dante?” Terzo whispered. “Are you giving this to me?”   
  
“I am, Valentino.” Primo looked down at his brother with a fond smile. “I cannot think of anyone who deserves it more.”   
  
“Surely it’s just because our dear brother doesn’t like the Ramones.”    
  
“While that doesn’t hurt, no.” Primo ruffled Terzo’s hair fondly. Terzo playfully slapped his hand away, laughing as he did so. “I just know you’ll like it.”   
  
Terzo carefully set the patch aside, then bear-hugged Primo with little to no warning. The little ‘oof’ he got in response was more than satisfactory, and he was quite shocked when Primo set down the photo album to give him a hug back.    
  
“Thank you, _fratello_!” Terzo said. He squeezed just a bit tighter. Not too much tighter, though -- he didn’t want to break the old man’s ribs, after all! “I’ll treasure it.”   
  
“I know you will.” Primo let go and rose to his feet, adjusting his scarf as he did so. “Now. Were we not going to play cards with Gianni?”    
  
“We were!” Terzo snickered. “He will be  _ very  _ put out if we don’t hurry.”   
  
Terzo was sure to grab the patch on the way out. He slipped it into his pocket, pushing it down as far as it could go just to be absolutely sure that it wouldn’t go anywhere.    
  
He’d keep it safe. 


End file.
